


Goddess damn it, Minerva!

by TyrantChimera



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Fix-it fic, Time Travel, and also minerva is maybe secretly sassy, and we all get some puppy cuddles, but it is what it is, cloud is a wolf, except hojo, fuck hojo, he's not too happy about that at first, so there ya go, they probably don't fix everything, to be fair, we all get our happy endings, well sorta, who knows - Freeform, wolf - Freeform, wolf!Cloud, you may now go "aww"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyrantChimera/pseuds/TyrantChimera
Summary: The goddess may have been an agent of the planet, her foremost, concentrated voice... but she was also mischief incarnate when it suited her. Cloud would have cursed her in every language he knew, if not for the fact that he was now, apparently, a wolf.And also back in time.Cloud Strife would have loved trying to figure that one out, but a certain preteen redhead by the name of Genesis Rhapsodos was currently dangled around his neck and cooing about his “Gift of the Goddess”. Oh, Hel. Minerva was going to have a lot to answer for.





	Goddess damn it, Minerva!

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been on a fanfic binge. And now a muse binge. And I wrote this monster up in a day because I have no life and it wouldn't leave me be. Hey look man, I've gotta go with the flow when my damnable motivation decides to actually work with me.
> 
> Anyways. Thanks to the fandom for the headcanons that Cloud is Norse and Time travel is fun. Love y'all for that. Enjoy everyone! (and forgive me if the formatting is a bit wonky since I copy + pasted and Openoffice acts weird when doing that.)
> 
> *Edit* Thanks so much to AskTheDevicer did another totally awesome fanart and I am in love once more. Thank you so so SO much!! https://askthedevicer.tumblr.com/post/621143739295055872/the-goddess-may-have-been-an-agent-of-the-planet

1.

The goddess Minerva may have been an agent of the planet, her foremost, concentrated voice... but she was also mischief incarnate when it suited her. Cloud would have cursed her in every language he knew, if not for the fact that he was now, apparently, a wolf.

And also back in time.

Sure, it had all started simply enough. The hints of another crisis, the world lurching. A voice, female, telling him to come here, come hither. After a few obligatory nervous breakdowns about the possible implications, he'd run off with his friends to a strange, underground network of caverns and tunnels, of monsters and mako crystals. Banora, someone had said. Or what was left of it, at least.

Him and his party had ventured deep, struggling against monsters and machines and a labyrinth of stone that sent Cid into one of his infamous tirades. Multiple of them, in fact. Even Yuffie went into one at one point, although in Wutaiian the endless strings of words that in no way fit for the princess of a nation.... would probably have been humorous, if half of the party didn't agree with it. As it was, the heated, somewhat garbled string of foreign flippance and frustration cost Cloud more than he thought it would. A critical moment of distraction.

The next thing he knew he was falling. A cave in. The sound of his own skull cracking on rock, his body and boulders tumbling, turning, through unknown depths. Slamming into the ground. He has little ability to think or react, dazed as he is, so when his eyes caught the gaze of an enigmatic redhead with a black wing, he wasn't sure how to react. Couldn't react.

“When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end,  
The goddess descends from the sky.  
Wings of light and dark spread afar,  
She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting .”

Cloud blinks, befuddled, as the man in red leather turns to face him fully, brandishing a crimson blade. He smiles sadly, “This epilogue becomes our end. This world is dying, whether or not you know it. But where there's a will, there's a way. A coward's way for me, perhaps.”

Cloud tries to bring himself to his feet, his head spinning. There's grit and, blood? Underneath his fingers, cutting into him. He's on his hands and knees, and there's too much of the world spinning for him to get up any further. But the man before him makes no moves to take advantage of this weakness. He simply tilts his head to the side, sadness and determination in his gaze as he gestures forth with a materia in his hand. “You'll want to change so much. But it's my mistakes that must be rewritten. That's all you need be concerned about.

Take care of him. My younger self. Would you?”

That voice, that pleading. Cloud barely has time to recognize the words before he's tumbling once more. Falling to oblivion.

2.

He stretches his limbs as colours swirl. Is it the green of lifestream, or the green of grass? The blue of the sea, or the sky, or his own eyes? Red and black, the man's clothes? Silver and gold... the eyes of a goddess, her fond wishes and her final blessing, the silver and gold of her armour... or the silver of teeth and claws, the gold of a divine beast's pelt.

He stretches out, his mind and world spinning in chaos, but his limbs seem to shift as he moves. A final breeze of green and orchards, the smells of earth and apples and leaves and sunshine. He perks his ears. Oh, but does something feel wrong? And yet so right. He tries to take stock of himself, his surroundings.

His hands are paws. His face, a muzzle. A tail. He's got a damn tail. The body of a beast. He's on the verge of freaking out, of wanting to scream even though a wolf cannot scream, not like a human, but it is a human scream that breaks through his moment of shock. But not one he's made.

No, not a scream, he realizes. A sob. A cry.

It's the sounds of a broken hearted child, crying softly. Hoping against hope. And Cloud, curse his own heart, always did have a soft spot for children. For putting others first. He looks around, lupine senses keen, and he tries not to think too much about it. He can panic later. Now, someone needs help. His help.

Go to him, he hears a soft whisper say. And he know, oh he knows, that this voice belongs to a being far infinitely more benevolent than Jenova, more ancient and wise than Aerith. Go to him, she says again, voice fading in his mind, and guide him. That's all you need do.

And so he does.

It's not time at all to find the redheaded child softly weeping, his heart lonely and barren as a glacier's peak, as empty as the top of the world. It's the redheaded man from earlier, only now he's a child. He's knelt in prayer in front of an apple tree, a book in his lap. He's young. Far too young, Cloud thinks, to be so lonely. And his heart aches and he knows, curse the goddess who thrust him there, that this is where he needs to be.

“Please,” the boy whimpers, “a friend. A bird. Anything. I just want a friend. Please!”

He's too engrossed in his own world for him to notice Cloud softly padding up behind him. His claws make no sound in the soft grass of the orchard. Cloud sits behind the boy, and his decision is made before he even makes it. His gut knows what to do, even if he knows he's back in time, even if he knows that he could be doing other things elsewhere. But here is where he's meant to be, at least for now, and here he'll stay.

He gently nudges his lupine nose against the boy's shoulders, and the child turns, wonder and fear sparking in his eyes as he falls back towards the tree, gasping. Terror is there at first. Terror at the wolf so near him. For a wolf will always go for the throat, and there is nothing he can do to protect his. But Cloud remains sitting, watching the boy, and he wonders what the boy must be thinking. He's petrified, of course. A golden monster sits before him, bigger than the biggest dog he's ever seen (and he is literally golden, his fur sparkling like that of a golden chocobo in certain light, far too ostentatious for his own liking). But cloud makes no moves, he merely surveys, certain that he must be radiating kindness from his eyes. Because he thinks of Denzel, and Marlene, and the orphans, and even himself when he was younger, and sees too much of them in the child before him.

The boy is recovering from the shock. Blinking, like he's trying to figure things out. Like he can't believe what's in front of him. He reaches out tentatively. Longingly.

“No!”

Another boy is suddenly running onto the scene from behind another apple tree, holding a stick and wide eyed and rushing at Cloud. “Monster! Go away!”

He puts himself between the wolf and the redhead, and Cloud can't help but cock his head and snuffle at the young lad that, for some reason, vaguely reminds him of Zack. This other one is scared, that's for sure. But he's trying to protect the other one from the 'monster'. How noble, if foolish. Cloud can feel the power of mako and muscle beneath his own skin. If he were so inclined, he thinks he could take out a group of SOLDIERs, much less a pair of small children.

But then the redhead is barging past the other boy, no, grabbing his arm and thrusting open his own arms in joy as he hugs Cloud suddenly, and Cloud can't help his own ears shooting up in surprise at the gesture and the rapturous glee yelled out by the first child.

“A gift everlasting! My prayers! Oh Minerva!” He's shouting and happy and crowing that he has been sent not one friend, but two, and the other boy is stiff in shock as he ends up half crushed between a boy he'd probably been nervously watching, afraid to approach but also wanting to befriend, and a very large, very... oh, a very fluffy monster that he'd maybe been mistaken in thinking that it would attack them. It was all very confusing.

Cloud, for his part, just huffs at the ridiculousness of his life.

He's back in time. He's in the body of a wolf. And he's now watching over a very eccentric redheaded boy who thinks (correctly, unfortunately for Cloud,) that he's been sent a divine gift. He's not sure who is more confused. Him, or the Zack look-alike patting both their heads and having about as much luck as Cloud was in understanding what the heck was going on.

Cloud Strife would have loved trying to figure that one out, but a certain preteen redhead by the name of Genesis Rhapsodos was currently dangled around his neck and cooing about his “Gift of the Goddess”. Oh, Hel. Minerva was going to have a lot to answer for.

3.

Genesis Rhapsodos, as it turns out the boy is named, is incredibly proud of his new friend, and it takes him a few weeks of determined research to come up with a name that is glorious and noble enough to decorate the collar Cloud begrudgingly has to accept.

Fenrir. He could almost laugh at the irony.

The Rhapsodos parents are terrified at first, distraught, and quite frankly, a bit apoplectic. Cloud (no, Fenrir now,) can tell that this is unusual for them. He can tell that these are reserved and noble people who are not prone to emotional outbursts (cold, far too reserved, not kind enough to his charge, no heart enough for children). But Genesis is fire and determination and utterly devout in his divine right to have Fenrir as his pet, and Cloud's gentleness and absolute, unnatural stubbornness in staying by the redhead's side puts down any effort to be rid of the wolf. He far outsmarts any attempts to 'disappear' him, and is always by the boy's side, and even helps with chores with an intelligent twinkle in his eye that unnerves Genesis's parents. By the time Genesis has gloriously proclaimed Cloud's new name, he has also outstayed any effort by his caregivers to have him loose the monster back into the wild. Cloud, Fenrir, is there to stay.

The other boy, Angeal as he's called, firmly cements himself as a friend and supporter of Genesis and his new endeavor. The two are fast friends. It certainly helps that Angeal, apparently, always wanted a puppy, and not only does he get to play with one as much as he wants now, it doesn't cost his poor family a single Gil since he's technically not the owner. Gillian is a kind mother, but a frugal one by necessity. Cloud... Fenrir, doesn't mind the extra attention at all. Genesis is all too happy to share. And, perhaps, boast a little. Angeal is never jealous.

Fenrir plays with them both. He catches them small animals to touch and hold and release, for he never kills what he doesn't have to. He lets Genesis spoil him rotten with food from the table, and the boy sits down with him and pats his fur whenever he eats, even going so far as to take his own plate off the table to sit next to his friend (no matter how his noble parents may argue). He lets Angeal brush and wash his fur without complaint, for Angeal seems to love to care for something, to enjoy a small but repetitive responsibility like one might oil a blade or knit a sweater. Genesis tells him stories, and he listens, and he's memorized LOVELESS within a month. Angeal does chores, and Fenrir helps.

He knows, even without knowing why, that's he's already making a difference. It seems such a simple thing to do. Yet he enjoys doing it.

And sometimes, sometimes, when he thinks too much of the things in the other world, the one he's left behind, he runs. These are his private moments at night, with the moon and the stars as bright as life in the sky. And when he returns from his nighttime runs, when he wonders just a bit too hard about things he's lost or people he might have hurt, oh Hel, what if he hurt Genesis by making him think he'd run away? Yet every time, Genesis just grumbles and shoves him in the bed and curls up next to him.

Fenrir.

It's a name he likes. It's a dependable name, like his old motorcycle that held all his blades. Blades he may never see again, and isn't it funny that maybe there's a reason for why he's a wolf. A wolf cannot wield swords, and swords are made to harm. There'd been enough harm in the world. Let there be some balm this time around.

But Fenrir, his Fenrir, the beast of steel and gears, it did come with him in a way he'd never expect. A memory, really. The wind in his hair (fur), the earth shifting beneath his tires (paws), the freedom of speed. But this wasn't him on his bike, no. Fenrir was a steed he'd never forget. For every once in a while, he himself was the steed.

Angeal and Genesis, seated on his back and shrieking in glee as he ran around the yard... The Hewley and Rhapsodos parents, yelling in outrage as he led them on a merry chase to catch their children... Yes. This was a memory he was glad to have.

4.

“We're going to Midgar. We're going to be in SOLDIER!”

Genesis tells him this one day, voice a bit hesitant. Cloud listens, perks his ears, eyes widening in concern. Eyes, he knows, that glow bright as fire with Mako, but which are as blue as the sky.

“I... I don't think they'll let you in with us.”

Genesis is fumbling, so unlike himself, and Fenrir cares little for it. He knows Genesis wants him to come. It's been in every frown and wayward glance and uncomfortable shift. But SOLDIER is for humans. Midgar is for humans. And beasts like him... Genesis wants him to come, but he's not sure if he'll be allowed to bring his treasured friend and companion.

Fenrir cares little for it. And he's going to show it.

When the day arrives, for Fenrir can read the calendar just like everyone else, he sits on Genesis when he's in bed and stares him in the eye. When he gets shoved off and Genesis gets dressed, Fenrir grabs his belt and won't let go, trailing along with the leather in his teeth as Genesis tries to prepare to leave. And when he finally has to let go so that Genesis and Angeal can get in the transport, Fenrir jumps on the the top of the vehicle and is determined not to get down.

The boys that have grown up with him are heartbroken. They know they have to leave their friend behind. They tell him so. They tell him that he has to stay, but that they'll visit, even as he concedes to them and slides off the van. They tell him that Midgar is no place for pets, and that they've been commanded to leave him. They've no more room for... childish fancies, or silly pets. Genesis and Angeal both think this is ridiculous, of course, for Fenrir is so much more than a pet, so much smarter and stronger and special. But Shinra won't accept that.

Cloud watches them through the rear window of the van, both of them staring behind and yelling at him to stay, begging him not to be sad. But Fenrir isn't sad. He's determined. The transport starts up, and rolls away, and he takes a couple of steps to follow. He feels the pain in their eyes, and stops. If he runs now, they'll only remember him running desperately after them. It will hurt them. Even if he's not desperate at all. He's determined.

So he stays still as he watches them leave, letting them think that he's accepted this. But he knows his way to Midgar. He won't run now. Not until they're gone from sight.

Soon. All too soon. They disappear over the hills. Then, and only then, does Fenrir run. He is a beast of the planet, chosen by Minerva, made of mako and fierceness and cold fury that not even the strongest Nibel wind could hope to compare. Fenrir runs. And in two short weeks, he is in front of the Shinra tower, pedestrians running from him as he sits patiently in front of the massive eyesore of a building. He waits. But he doesn't have to wait long. A Turk comes out the door, staring at him. He stares right back. Turks are no fools. The poor man sighs, notices the intelligence and determination in his eyes, and concedes.

When he sees Genesis and Angeal again, they both stare. And he stares right back, stern. They look away, sheepish at his unspoken admonishment. He'd gotten rather good at the “parental glare”, as Tifa had once called it. And if Genesis and Angeal ever once thought they could be rid of him, then... well. They had a big storm coming.

5.

The Shinra scientists quickly learned that the 'big, friendly golden puppy' Genesis had was anything but friendly. It had a mako glow in its eyes, sure, and even for a wolf it was large and sharp and imposing, but it was the sweetest thing to walk on four feet if you asked anyone who'd been with it more than a moment. It was great with kids, always attentive to Genesis (whose side he never left), and far more intelligent than any beast had a right to be. It could sit and stay and even play the goddess damned piano on command. It softly huffed along with Genesis whenever he recited LOVELESS. It could be as quite as falling owl's feather, or as fierce as a behemoth mother. They swore it could understand every human word spoken to it. There was really no other explanation for why it acted how it did.

It didn't like doctors. It shuffled nervously whenever a vet had to take a look at it for a routine checkup, even as the vet and Genesis would talk it through the visit. And when it was Genesis visiting a doctor or scientist, said doctor or scientist was never left wondering where that piercing gaze at the back of their neck came from. It was as steadfast a guard as anyone could ever hope for. Even a bit too much of one at times, if you bothered to listen to Genesis' rare complaints about the beast.

But one day some fool researcher had no good explanation for getting close to the wolf. One of Hojo's men. Curious he must have been, asking Genesis if he could be allowed some samples from the 'specimen'. The only samples he got were a sudden spray of spittle in his face as the beast furiously took him to the ground, teeth bared and claws pinning his neck to the ground. There was no blood drawn, of course. The wolf had too much control. And so Hojo's assistant had been sent skittering, the rage of both the wolf and Genesis damning the man from the room. Warning him, that on the wolf's behalf, such an intrusion into Fenrir's space should never happen again. Hollander's team just shook their heads at this. Foolish man. They'd long since learned not to mess with Genesis' favoured pet. Risking the ire of the flaming first, and his golden guardian, was never a smart thing. The redheaded thespian was very protective of the beast.

The next day, Hojo himself confronted the pair. Genesis would probably have had much more to say on the matter, but he was distracted with Sephiroth, who looked like he'd been conscripted to clean Heidigger's toilet rather than asked by the 'kindly' professor to back him up.

The golden beast was silent, shrinking behind Genesis. To the untrained eye, it appeared scared. Hackles up, tail low, hunched behind its owner. But Hollander's team was not untrained. They vacated the area as far as they possibly could without sabotaging their ability to watch the inevitable, and likely entertaining, outcome.

Genesis and Sephiroth exchanged strained pleasantries. Although friends, the situation was strained. Fenrir has always seemed nervous around Sephiroth, protective of Genesis perhaps. But Sephiroth was respectful, and always gave the wolf its space, and that had always been enough in the past for the wolf to calm down. Sephiroth was respectful of the beast.

Hojo was not.

Hojo, at some point, had made a quick, unexpected gesture towards... Genesis? The wolf? Who knew. He wanted a sample from the specimen. There was a needle in one hand, the other hand was outstretched, and Fenrir's previous growling and warnings had been all but ignored by the scientist. Hojo made a move.

Fenrir made his.

There was blood and the sound of flesh ripping and Genesis shouting and pulling his monster back. Fenrir obeyed, because of course he did. He was an intelligent, well trained animal. He'd pinned Hojo for less than a second before both Sephiroth and Genesis pulled him away, the wolf acquiescing immediately. One second was enough. Fenrir's claws had gutted the man, and his teeth had ripped his throat open so wide it was a wonder the fool scientist's head was still attached. Later autopsy revealed that, actually, it wasn't. Not by more than a few veins and tendons and strings of skin. All in the room stared, yet somehow, the most shocked, most stunned member was Sephiroth. He looked down at Hojo, seemingly unable to contemplate what had happened.

Fenrir was not punished. It was later decided that Hojo had initiated the aggression by ignoring Fenrir's warnings and making violent movements. Fenrir was trained as a guard. The beast had only been doing its job, and Fenrir's actions were only to be expected. Perhaps things would have been worse for the wolf if Shinra did not have Hollander to fill Hojo's shoes so readily. Or if Sephiroth had not been such a staunch witness into the fact that yes, Hojo had been properly warned against what he'd done, yet had done it anyways.

Tactfully, no one who had born witness to these events, or heard of it thereafter, confronted him on it. Or the fact that Fenrir and Sephiroth had perhaps reconciled whatever made the wolf first nervous around the silverette. No one ever again mentioned that day, the very next day after the event, when Genesis was kneeled next to his wolf, a calming hand on its side. The day when Sephiroth sat in front of the wolf, on his knees like a Wutaiian in prayer, and was finally petting the beast with what could only be awe and respect in his eyes. And comfort and forgiveness in the eyes of the wolf.

6.

If there's one thing that Genesis would never admit to, it was jealousy.

He and Angeal, there was nothing to be jealous of between them. They were childhood friends and worked in tandem like no others before. They trained and fought and learned together, the best of friends. They knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, and supported each other in combat. And they trained, and trained. They even trained with Sephiroth.

The rivalry was well know. Angel, Genesis, Sephiroth. The closest of men, all three high on a pedestal set by Shinra. Only those three could come close to beating each other, or so they said. But it was also said that Sephiroth, alone, could beat the other two, even if they teamed up. And so it was that their hierarchy had formed.

Genesis would never admit to jealousy. Would never admit to wanting, so much, to be the one on top. The one who could beat the other two, almost as if he wasn't even trying. The one everyone would praise the most. He would never admit that. Not to anyone.

Anyone except Fenrir, that is.

In the dark of night or in the loneliness of a mission, where no other eyes could see them, Genesis would do as he'd done as a small, sad, nervous child, and he'd bury his face in Fenrir's fur and tell him all his woes. Only when he was very upset, only when no one could see them. Even Angeal knew nothing of this ritual. It was a strict confidence between the red haired man and his golden wolf.

He wanted, so hard, to be the best. And Fenrir decided he'd help.

It started off small enough. He caught Genesis's eye, and although he made every action as if it were playing, it was soon obvious that he had initiated a spar. Genesis and Fenrir would train together since then. Sometimes against each other, most times against monsters. Fenrir and Genesis began to work as a team in combat. Genesis with his magic and agility, would strike hard and fast from afar with his flames, or up close with his rapier. Fenrir, with his speed and fierceness, would dog the heels and necks of their enemy, and redirect their attention and blows unto himself, even if only for a moment, for a moment of distraction was all Genesis would ever need to be fatal.

Genesis was hesitant at first. This was his beloved pet, his gift from the goddess. He did not want Fenrir to be at risk. But that mako glow was true, and Fenrir was even more steadfast in battle than Genesis could have ever hoped for. The wolf could even use materia if he so felt like it. Genesis was truly proud and enamored with his beast. But even then, he was reluctant to risk his beast against Sephiroth. Against Sephiroth, it was only ever Genesis and Angeal.

And then the training accident happened.

Fenrir knew immediately that something was wrong. Genesis couldn't hide it. Not that he tried to hide it from Fenrir, even if he hid it from everyone else. There was a war with Wutai, a never-ending pain in his shoulder, and the tightly-held fear that it might just be the end of him. Hollander was no help. The head of the science department, for all his science, was no miracle worker. He could only reveal the past wrongs and mistakes. His odds of survival. Things Genesis could not bear to hear.

Genesis sobbed, and buried his face in Fenrir's fur, and held his divine gift close. His beautiful friend. It was nighttime, and he cried sfotly, so that no one would hear him but his wolf, not even the SOLDIERs next door with their enhanced senses. Not even Angeal.

“Please,” the boy whimpers, “I don't want to die like this. I don't want to hurt like this. Oh Goddess. Please!”

Fenrir's heart breaks. He was there when Hollander explained degradation. So similar to geostigma, and yet, so much deeper. Pain, the inability to heal, an encroaching madness. Genesis was terrified. He didn't want to fade. He wanted to be a hero. Not an invalid. Not a man whose mind and body failed him before he was even thirty. 

Angeal, he knows, seems to have picked up that something is wrong. He just hasn't talked to Genesis about it, confident that Genesis will tell him when he's ready. But how could one ever be ready for this? Even Sephiroth is concerned and it's easy for Fefnir to see this, not matter how small those gestures and ticks. Cloud had learned to read Valentine, Vincent Valentine, a long time ago, and Sephiroth is surprisingly easy in comparison.

Fenrir, for all his inner worries that he hasn't been doing enough to change things, for all his nagging insecurities that he should be elsewhere no matter what a goddess has told him he should be doing, finally realizes why it's so important that he be where he his. Because now he knows how the end of the world really started. Not in fire and flames and betrayal and the death of a mountain town. But in a single man, a victim of monsters and science and madness. A young boy scared and terrified and lashing out, and having no idea just how much he'd break and take with him as he fell.

Fenrir's heart broke, but only for a moment. For his heart was made of steel, and even in shards it could cut through anything in his way. He places his paw on Genesis's shoulder and the man, the boy, looks up into his eyes as broken and lonely and terrified as the day they first met. Those eyes meet determination, and finality, but not the finality of death.

Fenrir stares, and hopes that his eyes convey the steel in his heart. And then he turns to leave.

“My gift of the godddess... do you fly away now?” The voice is small. Timid and scared. The sound of a man abandoned. Fenrir turns, and he grabs a copy of LOVELESS in his teeth, and he turns to the second act. And he places it in front of Genesis, for Genesis will know the answer even as Fenrir places his paw upon the verse.

There is no hate, only joy  
For you are beloved by the goddess  
Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds 

And Fenrir leaves.

7.

It takes him three months.

Genesis is still with Shinra, in Wutai, even. A whisper of the past says he had defected, before. That whisper was not to be this time.

Fenrir returns to Genesis, sickly and pale in a tent, his hairs beginning to gray and his body shuddering in pain. His shoulder had gotten infected by the jungles and poisons of Wutai and its ninjas. Angeal is nearby. Probably called in to help protect his ailing friend, though they both know there is no help, no miracle to be had. Genesis is dying, and judging by the gray hairs and taut skin of Angeal, the broad chested man will not be far behind.

Even through a dull sheen of pain, Genesis's eyes light up in saddened joy when Fenrir returns. Angeal turns, and in his own downtrodden way, he is happy too. Despair and relief and joy. Contrary, yet all there, all belonging. Genesis, in a ragged tent stained with mud and torn by wind, opens his arms for Fenrir to come.

He does not.

Fenrir stands, in the center of camp, and waits.

Genesis is betrayed, at first. The hurt in his eyes is palpable. But Fenrir stares, and tells him, through the window to his soul, that it is not Fenrir that needs to come. Fenrir gives Angeal a glance, then back to Genesis. The message is clear.

The pair move towards him, Angeal having to help his ailing friend up. Genesis is hurt, and confused, and it break's Fenrir's heart to see that in his charge's eyes. But he needs Genesis and Angeal in the center of camp, out in the open air. Not hidden in a tent. And he needs to see their resolve.

He'd gone to Aerith, at first. And the girl, oh so familiar, had known why he'd come, but she was too young, too inexperienced, to do anything, as much as it pained her. It wasn't her that needed to have the cure. “The goddess awaits,” is what Aerith had said on behalf of the planet. “But where, I do not know.”

Fenrir knew. And so he'd gone there, to where the goddess, where Genesis, had awaited him before in the time that is no more, that would never be. It took him time, and effort, and everything his heart and soul had to give, but he'd reached Minerva and Minerva had taught him what he'd need to do.

A Limit break, they called it. A limit break was when one's soul surged with power beyond their physical limitations, power that would let them go just that little extra bit beyond what one had ever done before. His Limit break had been Omnislash. Not a power of justice or desire, or even determination. Just the power of finality. What had to be done, to ensure the end of a tyrant. But what use did a wolf have for swords, now? What good would Omnislash do, when all it could do was tear things down?

It had taken months to unlearn Omnislash, and fill in the hole it left behind. He would never be able to use his old limit break again. It was a sacrifice he'd happily make. He'd learned what needed to be learned, and would do what needed to be done. Not to hurt, but to heal.

As Genesis stumbled forwards to come to him, as Angeal nearly tripped in the mud and vines of the Wutaiian camp, Fenrir reared back and howled. He felt his heart break and his soul surge, and the rains of Great Gospel fell down.

8.

Never leave me again, Genesis cries softly into Fenrir's fur, the rain dried to tears in the privacy of his tent. Never leave me again.

Fenrir hoped he never had to.

9.

Fenrir might have felt a bit more guilty over Wutai's fall, but a certain small ninja tugging his fur out and shrieking at the literal “Shinra dog!!” made him a bit selfishly apathetic.

Genesis was finishing up the terms of surrender, and leaving the palace, a spring in his step that had been missing for ages. Since the degradation had first begun. Fenrir managed to shake off Yuffie, gave her a tiny lick on the cheek (because Yuffie, for all her annoyances, was a generous heart), and followed Genesis away. Angeal sauntered to meet them from across the capital, relief and even a bit of mischief in his eyes.

The two old friends exchanged pleasantries, but Fenrir could tell that something was up. The friends led their way away from the palace, near to where the Shinra chopper was waiting for them. Angeal kept taunting though, and for all of Genesis' verbal sparring and eloquence, Angeal was patient. Genesis was the first to give.

“Oh alright. You're hiding something. Tell me what it is before I accidentally set it on fire,” he huffed.

Angeal just chuffed and grinned, and waved to another soldier by the chopper, his cheshire grin boundless. “I have a puppy of my own now.”

That was when one SOLDIER second class Zack Fair came bounding out with mock outrage and chattering at Angeal as if he hated the nickname he so readily responded to. “What do you mean Puppy, I'm at least a full grown and house trained mutt! Oh! Or not a mutt, a wolf! Yeah! I mean wouldn't that be awesome if everyone called me Wolf, like that would be such a cool nickname for a SOLDIER as dignified and awesome as-”

Zack stopped when his eyes caught those of Fenrir, who was staring stock still and shocked at the young SOLDIER's appearance. Like he didn't know what to make of this bouncing ball of maniac. It was a complete bluescreen of the brain.

There was a high pitched whine. But it wasn't from Fenrir.

“PUPPYYYYYY!!!”

Zack launched himself at the giant, jaggedly fanged, intimidating wolf with all the enthusiasm of a three year old on enough sugar to knock a dragon flat. Zack outright glomped the poor animal and was rolling around happily, squeaking in glee and spoiling it rotten with scritches before it even knew that it'd been had.

The two Firsts stared.

“He's going to ruin my noble Fenrir,” Genesis wailed stoically.

“So much for house trained...”

10.

Fenrir's rains had been a miracle. A miracle Hollander wanted in on.

“Genesis, we've coddled your odd pet long enough. It's got Mako in its eyes and can use magic! What if its powers could be used to help others? To progress SOLDIER?”

Genesis argued against it, though logic told him otherwise. He didn't trust Hollander, even if the man had some points. The man that had experimented on him. A fact Genesis had no problems with shoving back in his face. “To progress SOLDIER? To progress your department, you mean! My friend will not be one of your experiments!” the redhead snarled, the beast at his side glowering in agreement.

“But its powers are dangerous! If not used to further SOLDIER, they could be used against it! Even now, I'm going to have to re-inject you with Jenova cells-!”

Fenrir roared. He bared his teeth and flexed his claws and stalked towards Hollander. Hollander had been growing foolish, He should have known to never anger the golden beast, or Genesis. To leave them well enough alone. But he'd grown as arrogant as Hojo, and that a pet had outsmarted his science... it did not sit well with Hollander. His jealousy, his desire to know and have control, were overriding long years of learning what not to do in the presence of Genesis's guardian.

“It must be done! If it can affect the Jenova cells-!”

Fenrir snarls at the name.

“-if it could be used with them, or to replace them... if it could rewire your failing genetics-!

“Those genetics were your fault, Hollander.”

Genesis's voice is flat. His eyes, however, burn. And so do the eyes of Fenrir, his lupine gaze as cold and hard and bright as a glacier. Fenrir stalked forward more, he growled again. He knew that strain of though that Hollander was showing. Once the thought was there, once one became willing to even think of such horrid things, much less demand them to be done...! There would be no mercy.

Genesis is of a similar mind,. To experiment on him.... on Angeal... and even after all these years, to show no remorse! To want to continue experimenting, even!

The golden beast moves forward. Hollander has finally noticed his plight. He steps back, even as Fenrir steps forward. “Call him off! Call your beast off!”

Genesis doesn't.

Angeal would not have been proud of him, Genesis sighs. Worry, guilt, churns in his gut. But Angeal doesn't need to know.

A Turk saunters in behind the redhead, whistling low as he surveys the blood spatters. “Yo, man. That's vicious!” The tone belies a grin. Genesis turns sharply to Reno, but Reno has a hand up, halting any response. “Wow man, poor Hollander. Ah well, I guess specimens escape all the time, huh. How sad,” he suggests, smile far too wide as his partner, Rude, casually busts a lock to a specimen cage nearby. Not enough to open it. No. But enough to damage it enough that it could be easily opened. That task will be left for the creatures inside.

Genesis is confused at this apparent generosity, the overlooking of his sin. “Why?” he asks.

Reno shushes him again, a far too calculating grin in his eye. “Hojo did some pretty nasty things to one of our own family members. Hollander was made aware. Hollander made no attempts to fix 'em. Veld sends some regards, yo. Don't forget it when the debts are due.”

The Turks sashay out, knowing they have Genesis by the throat. Genesis knows he will have no repercussions from Shinra, but... he's not sure he wants to owe the Turks, either. Fenrir sniffs at his hand, even as a pair of scaled beasts test at the broken lock, eyes full of hunger. They both leave, and never speak of Hollander again.

11.

Neither Genesis or Fenrir, nor anyone who knew them, ever had the grounds to doubt the bond that man and beast shared. Yet somehow, impossibly, it had grown even stronger. Genesis decides one day, while watching his faithful friend, that he was going to try something new in their sparring. He gave fenrir a look, and a grin, and the wise creature knew what he was planning in an instant.

When Angeal and Sephiroth turned to face Genesis in the training room, both their eyebrows quirks as Fenrir steps in right behind him. Angeal chortles, “Well, if you're confident enough in your puppy, perhaps I should bring mine as well next time.”

Genesis, free of the doubts and paranoia and anger wrought by degradation, smiles gamely. “Why, if there even is a next time,” he teases. “No teaming up with me today, Angeal. This time, I prove my worth.” Fenrir howls and fell to a battle stance, ever the other half of Genesis.

“A free for all then. This should be interesting.” Sephiroth quips nonchalantly. He's never seen the beast in battle, and even his stoic demeanor can't hide the edge of curiosity.

The battle began in no time at all. Angeal and Sephiroth had never seen Fenrir truly fight before. But Genesis had, and their months-long training would finally bear fruit.

At first, things seemed only a little different than normal. Genesis and Angeal managing mere potshots at each other while Sephiroth dominated the room. Fenrir seemed no more than a barrier at first. In the end, it seemed nothing would change from the norm. Sephiroth could deal with both of them at once, after all. He'd always won. No one expected any different this time.

No one but Genesis expected materia usage from Fenrir either.

What was once a well-rehearsed clash of swords and magic became a quick frenzy of spells and fur and steel, a desperate scramble to regain footing and to make sense of the abnormality. Genesis and Fenrir let themselves truly go, the redhead no longer afraid of harm to his pet, or of what the wolf could do. Angeal yelped, Genesis smiled, and Sephiroth was the first to fall, a wolf at his throat and incomprehension on his face. The buster sword wielder managed to take down the wolf next, but Genesis swept in from behind and finished the game. He crowed in victory even as Fenrir gave a huff and pulled himself off Sephiroth who, for the first time he could ever remember, had lost. And he was baffled.

“Only you would teach your damn pet to use materia,” Angeal scorned, but there was no malice. Genesis just grinned like the cat who got the cream, and Sephiroth blinked, truly lost. Fenrir felt just a little bit of pity for him, and sat beside him with a whump and an (only-slightly) apologetic grin.

“Teach your pet to use some too, and maybe I'll have a challenge again,” Genesis laughs at Angeal.

The group reconvened in Sephiroth's quarters after cleaning up, a casual gathering of friends. Zack was there too, berating everyone for letting him miss out on the fun. Genesis boasted all through the evening, and no one made any effort to stop it. He regaled Zack with a much embellished version of the fight, Angeal shaking his head at the antics. In a corner of the couch, Sephiroth simply sat, still a bit shell-shocked, but certainly not begrudging his friends their victory (even if he has learned that no, he is not invulnerable, and it's shaken more than a few foundations).

Sephiroth strokes Fenrir's fur as the beast lay on top of his lap, and sighs deeply. “Your teamwork was truly inspiring,” he relents, and Fenrir raises his head to survey him.

The others glance over, and Genesis smiles in humble pride, “I owe Fenrir more than my life. He's been my friend, my brother, since I was very young. I almost think I've held him back, at times,” he chortles.

“You've known him since.... how long ago? I've never asked his age.” Sephiroth admits. Fenrir blinks at him.

Angela frowns, his eyebrows furrowed in thought, “We couldn't tell you his age. He seemed fairly full grown since we found him when we were little,” he begins, “but certainly, we've known him since before we left our hometown, Banora. Fenrir has been with us a long, long time.”

“To have a hometown... to have a family so dear to you... it must be quite wonderful. I don't know much about my own family...” Fenrir's whole body stiffens as he draws himself into the conversation, although perhaps no one notices. Sephiroth just kept stroking him, and he realizes that the silverette is... seeking comfort, in his own way.

“You don't know your family?” Zack intrudes, and for all the friendly lack of tact no one notices. That is just who Zack is, his voice ringing with surprise, concern, and the inability to avoid hugging anything even remotely unhappy looking.

The other firsts wait patiently as Sephiroth seemed to put his thoughts in order, “Well... My father... bears no mentioning. My mother, though I heard she died in childbirth, was named Jenova-”

Fenrir snarls, hatred in his eyes even it is directed at no one in particular.. Even Sephiorth jerks to attention. Genesis is taken aback the most by the uncharacteristic fury, “Fenrir? What's wrong... wait. Jenova?” He brings his hand to his chin, thoughtful. “I have heard that name before...?”

Fenrir looks over at him, and Genesis startles. “Ah, yes! I recall. It was a thing Hollander mentioned before... well. Before his accident. I thought little of it, but...”

“Whay would my mother have to do with Hollander?” Sephiroth wonders aloud. Fenrir growls again, this time at Sephiroth as he brings himself to his four feet, but there is no malice on his eyes. Only warning.

“Perhaps Hollander lied.... he was always a desperate man, even before Hojo... Well..” Angeal mutters, far darker than his normal tone.

“Infinite is mystery is the gift of the goddess... Fenrir. You have been holding out on me. Is there something you know that I do not?” Genesis teases. But the words are strained.

Fenrir looks at his charge, and then at Sephiroth. The wielder of Masamune then finds himself truly struck by the intelligence in those eyes. A deep seated grief and elder knowledge, a wildness and gentleness that could never truly be tamed. A truth that he could not surmise. And an apology, for things unsaid.

Fernir moves to the door, and waits. Looks back at Genesis. And Genesis, bless his soul, understands.

“You have somewhere you need to be, don't you,” he surmises, resignation in his voice. Fenrir nods. Genesis goes to his knees, and hugs his beast. “Then do not let me keep you. Go. But make sure to return. My heart breaks when you're not at my side.”

And Fenrir's does too, he thinks. He nuzzles Genesis, but the man knows his loyalty. He opens the door without a thought and the wolf slinks out. And all who watch him go know that he know where he has to be.

Angeal smiles sadly, but knowingly. “Well. You always did say he was divine. Maybe he's got another miracle he has to pull off, hmm?”

Genesis.... is upset. He never wanted to be separated from his friend again. And there he was, with Fenrir gone. And he somehow knows it isn't to save him this time. But he looks back at Sepiroth, who is contemplating a hair from Fenrir that had stuck to his lap, and he smiles ruefully at Zack, confused as he was. He sighs. But he felt no regret. “I always wondered if maybe, Fenrir being a gift of the goddess was just a childish fancy of mine. But I also wonder if my younger self just knew the truth a little more.”

“Do you think I will too? Know the truth?”

Sephiroth's voice sounds unusually small.

“I suppose... that's what we're going to find out.”

12.

Six months. Six long, soul-aching months.

Fenrir knew a task when he heard one, even without the goddess bidding him go. But he felt her sigh of gratitude in the back of his mind, and the acknowledgment that his goal was true. There's a reason that he'd been chosen, after all.

But six months was a surprisingly long time to him, and no doubt to Genesis, who probably remembers little of his life before his bond to the wolf. Cloud, who no longer knew of himself as Cloud but as Fenrir, had much to do however. And it had to be done.

But things became sidetracked. Complications. Evidence was needed.

And more than one person he's found needed resolution for an undeserved past.

13.

Genesis was distraught, and even his faith in Fenrir began to waiver. How long did dogs live? Or wolves, for that matter? Had his friend gone to die, of old age? Maybe he needed his gift no longer, and the wolf had walked on to whomever required him most? He keened and brooded, and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he couldn't. The absence of his golden friend was visible both at his side, and in his heart.

And so, when Genesis saw Fenrir again, his wonderful blue eyes gazing at him and his golden tail wagging energetically, he screamed in primal joy.

Angeal was around the corner in an instant, panicked at his friend's cry. Zack popped around the corner a moment later and watched from the background, typing something on his phone, and in no short order Sephiroth could be heard thundering down the hall towards them. Genesis was kneeling, desperately holding his companion even as two new people stood awkwardly nearby. 

Angeal was the first to address them. One, a boy who'd seemed to have traveled more than he ate, for he was just a bit too gangly even as he was obviously growing. Yet his smooth young face held a dagger hint of something even steel would not break. He had a rucksack of supplies, and papers. Not too abnormal, as far as travelers go. Yet the other traveler...

A pale golden gauntlet, a face hidden in red cloth and shadow, and eyes that told of evils best left unsaid. Haunted, yet determined. Angeal speaks to him first. “Well, it appears our good friend Fenrir has dragged you quite a ways. Come to my room, we can speak there.”

The group moves to Angeal's quarters, the most homely of the four SOLDIER's apartments, but a shift in the red spectre's eyes alerts them that they were being watched. Some Turks were observing, but making no efforts to hide themselves. There was even wonder in their eyes, and Angeal tries very hard not to be frightened by something that could draw such admiration from the silent assassins in blue suits.

The group files into Angeal's room, Zack goes for the couch first. Genesis keeps his hand on Fenrir at all times, as if he can scarcely believe his beloved wolf is real. The small teen traveler keeps his rucksack nearby, gentle blue eyes and wild blonde hair darting around nervously even as the overly friendly, and impeccably social Zack Fair picks up on his nervousness and bids come to the couch with comically exaggerated gestures.

The other newcomer makes a swift sweep of the room, no doubt searching for surveillance equiopment. Genesis obliges him. These two were a nervous lot it seems. But the moment the older traveler is satisfied with the quarters, his eyes move to Sephiroth. They hold there, longing and hopeful, even as the man shrinks away in trepidation.

“Sephiroth,” he begins, but waivers. He blinkes his claw twitching furtively. There is something in his eyes, a recognition that went deeper than anyone else could surmise by his closed off demeanor. He has something to say, but perhaps no willpower to say it.

Sephiroth inclines his head, taking the initiative. “You seem to know me, yet I do not know you. Not unusual with Shinra propaganda. Would it be rude of me to ask to introduce yourself?” he says with a gentle smile, aware the man is furtive, and something in that smile must have caught the man, for he holds a moment of silence, deep in thought.

Fenrir comes forward, and nudges the man by his golden claw. The man looks down, Fenrir nods at him knowingly, and the stranger speaks again, “I know something of you, but... it may be private. Would you like to speak elsewhere?”

“My friends hold my full confidence. If it does not bother you, then it will not bother me.”

The red cloaked man sighs, and Fenrir gives a snort. He nudges the claw with his snout again, and stares the man down as if to tell him to get on with it. The stranger gathers his courage and looks Sephiroth in the eye, and Sephiroth is surprised to see such sorrow and warmth. “I am Vincent Valentine. And you.... you have your mother's smile.”

14.

Vincent valentine, as it turns out, was a wealth of knowledge, forbidden and dark, yet filled with so much hope and longing. And the boy he'd brought with him... when Valentine and Sephiroth spoke, he gently went through his belongings and brought out many papers, notes and books, all of which Valentine used as ecidence for his story. The teen had helped bring back the truth, offering his actions without any reward desired.

Gast, the ancients, Jenova. Notes from Nibelheim, videos from Icicle inn, secrets and sabotage played out long before the SOLDIERs were even born. All of it was there. The truth of Sephiroth, the Calamity that was Jenova, and even from a stroke of mishap, of the lifestream and the planet and the dangers of Mako, as told to them by two great cats in Cosmo canyon. And Valentine had gathered it all, determined to prove the truth to the son of Lucrecia, because it was the least he could do. (and if he got carried away a little when it came to Jenova and the lifestream and the planet, well. Let it never be said that the former Turk would ever overlook even the smallest of details if he could help it.)

Valentine wasn't the only one with a story however. The boy, it turned out, had been intercepted on his way to Midgar by the wolf. A meeting of pure chance. Or not. Cloud Strife only needed one look at the wolf to know that his patron deity Fenrir had needed him. A belief from his backwater town, yet no one could deny the divine implications. Hróðvitnir, or Fenrisúlf (for it was but one of the many names that only the true sons of Loki and Fenrir and Nibel could know), had gazed at him and despite Cloud's immovable desire to join SOLDIER, he knew something else was calling him instead. (Here he showed his badge, a wolf with a silver chain in it's mouth, and it was all the evidence he or anyone had needed to believe in the wolf's purpose). So he'd followed the wolf back home and risked humiliation from a broken promise, and the wolf had led him straight to Vincent. And here Vincent stiffened and the boy grinned, because Cloud had been unable to wake Vincent at first, yet had no time to feel shame at his inability. For as it turns out, a coffin of wood covered in chains of metal was little barrier to a several hundred pound divine wolf. Vincent had admitted that he hadn't wanted to go, to leave his punishment. But Fenrir was not to be swayed. The wolf had destroyed the coffin and dragged him from the room. He'd shown them the library and the lab, of Hojo's lies, and then burned what they didn't need in divine fire.

Vincent had been a little more swayed after that (not that he had much choice), and even the demons in his mind told him to smarten up and follow the wolf.

The conversation continued. About Vincent. About Sepiroth. Lucrecia. Hojo,

About Jenova, and what needed to be done.

The conversation continued, but Fenrir was tired. He knew he'd done what he needed to do. And as his eyelids drooped and his nose was full of the smell of home, and Genesis stroked his fur, he heard another voice, one filled with pride and knowing.

Sometimes the greatest thing we can do is not to act for ourselves, but to guide another. You have done well.

And Fenrir fell to sleep.

Bonus I.

If it looks like a chocobo, and kicks like a Chocobo... try not to piss it off.

Zack loved his friend, his little Spike, but sometimes, when he watched the aftermath of Cloud's rarely bared fury, he was afraid of him. It didn't help that Genesis had learned he was a natural at wielding materia, and had mercilessly decided to tutor him.

Genesis was bad enough with his penchant for fire. At least he could be predicted in that matter. Cloud? Good luck figuring what spells would come out from that little monster. You'd have better luck predicting a storm with a stewpot on your head.

Bonus II

Genesis meets Nanaki during a diplomatic trip to Cosmo Canyon. And even though he loves Fenrir with all his heart, he cannot help but be impressed by the noble cat's iron red fur and flaming tail, its lithe muscles and impeccable poise.

Fenrir shuffles and snorts beside him once he notices Genesis's intent gaze.

“Jealous, friend?” the redhead teases, and Fenrir tries very hard not to look like he is.

Bonus III

Cloud and Genesis got along surprisingly well. Genesis normally would not give a cadet or infantryman the time of day, but Cloud was clearly different. Fenrir's clear bias towards the boy might have helped.

So no one who knew the two was much surprised when Genesis's regular outfit changed slightly. A little charm on a chain, all gold, that wrapped around his belt. It was the same charm that Cloud had, the symbol of Fenrir, only it and the chain were in gold, with eyes made of blue materia fragments. It was a copy of Cloud's badge, and Genesis was very happy to subtly show it off.

Cloud was very, very proud. Fenrir, for whatever reason, was very, very smug.


End file.
